Now We're Tallest
by SaitouMiharu
Summary: Every spoken or unspoken rumor about it was filled with pain, misery, and horrible, unavoidable trauma and suffering. Red and Purple go to the Tallest Ritual to have their thumbs cut off.


Now We're Tallest

An Invader Zim fanfic

By Saitou Miharu

Purple was in his room getting ready. "There's an awful lot of ceremonial clothes, aren't there?" he muttered to himself. He had it all spread out across his desk: a thin, almost transparent white shirt, jet-black pants and boots, a custom-fitted over-skirt, and finally, to top it all off, a long-sleeved jacket inked in deep violet. He couldn't understand what he could possibly need all these clothes for.

The over-skirt was the hardest to get on. He'd thought he knew how it worked, but this was different than anything he'd ever worn before. Although it'd only taken a few minutes to put everything else on, the over-skirt was taking over half an hour, and mostly involved Purple twisting and turning, trying to get it past his hips and around his waist. He jumped slightly when the door slid open.

"Hey, Pur, you're late and I'm not covering for—" Red paused and regarded Purple with a half-amused smirk. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Purple shot back. He tried one last time, hopping and pulling hard on the waistband, without prevail. He sighed and let it crumple to the ground, then stepped out of it and handed it to Red. The other Irken pulled it over Purple's head, snapping the belt into place.

He smiled. "Come on, let's go."

The pair had reached the ceremony room in less than twenty minutes, Red standing straight and tall, his red-dyed jacket and over-skirt looking quite striking and regal, while Purple twiddled his thumbs and hoped the ceremony wouldn't be too painful. Rumors were constantly flying about the Tallest Rituals, and no one knew what was true until they'd been there themselves. And since few received the honor of watching someone become an Almighty Tallest, very little was known about the processes involved. And thus every spoken or unspoken rumor about it was filled with pain, misery, and horrible, unavoidable trauma and suffering.

Red didn't seem nervous, just filled with suppressed excitement. His mouth curved at the ends into a proud smile. This was the pinnacle of his entire lifetime. This was what every Irken dreamed of: the chance to become a Tallest.

Silence reigned upon every Irken in the room as Red and Purple made their appearance. There were only about twenty in attendance, Purple noticed; the Ritual must be very exclusive. At the front of the room were five Political Advisors—Purple could tell because of the Paks on their chests—standing still, waiting.

Purple followed Red up the aisle, careful to walk in step with him. When the pair had come to a halt at the front, one of the Advisors stepped forward. "Soldier Red."

"Here." Red replied, eyes gazing ahead, determined.

"And Soldier Purple?"

"Here..." Purple murmured, unsure. He hoped he looked as self-confident as Red did, but very highly doubted it. This was supposed to be a great moment for him, he needed to man up and enjoy it. He was stuck with Red now, forever, best friends leading Irk together. His head turned slightly, and when he caught Red's eye, he forced a small smile. Red stared for a moment, eyes big and glossy, and finally flashed his own smile back, while the Advisor continued to drone on and on.

Finally, the words of the ceremony were complete, and the part that was most frequently talked-about in the rumors was about to begin—the cutting-off of Red and Purple's thumbs. Purple wasn't really sure why this had to be done to the Tallest, but it had always been done, and thus he did not question it. But the knowledge that this was a "tradition," or that "others have been through the same thing" certainly didn't prevent him from dreading it.

Red was to go first. He took two steps forward and held out his hand, palm-up.

One of the other Advisors drew a small knife from his scabbard, approached Red, and pressed the blade against his skin. Then, to Purple's discomfort, the Political Advisor twisted Red's thumb outward and quickly sliced it clean off. Deep green blood immediately spurted from the wound, dripping to the floor. As the Advisor placed the digit in a small box carried by a drone, Purple saw that he'd been very careful to cut off not just the thumb itself, but also the webbing between the thumb and forefinger, in order to make the hand look more natural later, when the wound healed.

The second thumb was cut off just as easily. Purple was sure to watch Red's face this time; it barely moved. Only the twitch of his antennae and the slight narrowing of his eyes showed that he was in any sort of pain.

It was now Purple's turn. _Time to become a true Tallest,_ he thought. His steps were somewhat uneven as he became level with Red and offered his hand to the next Advisor, a female. Her pinkish eyes shut closed and fluttered open once while she drew her knife up from its scabbard. Purple wanted to close his eyes, too, if only for a single moment. But right now he had to be strong. For himself, and for the Empire.

His attention was redrawn when pain surged up through his hand, all the way to his shoulder. He felt himself twitch, but quickly recovered in time to put on a brave face. Blood spattered to the floor, thick, green, unnerving. He weakly forced his other hand to rise, only to have the second digit chopped off. A scream threatened to force itself out, but he managed to swallow it back. _If Red can do this, so can I._

Luckily, the Ritual ended soon after that. The two Tallest's hands were wrapped gently and delicately in bandage, not too tight to cut off any sort of circulation, but definitely firm enough to stay in place the three days it took for the skin to grow back. The scars were supposed to go away in about a year, according to the Advisors. But this—and everything Purple had been worried about, for that matter—all melted away as he felt the power coming to him. Two Irken Elites, formerly Purple and Red's superiors, stepped forward and removed the belts from their over-skirts, then wrapped and tightened new belts around their waists. Purple felt himself float from the ground slightly, levitating, and looked to Red, who was experiencing the same thing. Hover belts—cool.

In the very back of all the Irkens in attendance were some Control Brains. "Almighty Tallest Red, Almighty Tallest Purple," one said, "We approve of your leadership of the Irken Empire. Use your power well, and do not make decisions lightly."

Red smirked, ready. He had been born for this.

Purple tried to smile, but ended up with an evil grin. Ah, well. Better than nothing.

And then they were alone.

Everyone had suddenly filed from the room, leaving Red and Purple completely by themselves. Had this been a normal Tallest Ritual, there would be one Tallest in the room, and he or she would be alone with their thoughts. But since Red had Purple and Purple had Red, they took advantage of the quiet and talked softly to each other.

"So... that's it, huh? After everything we've gone through..."

"What do you mean, 'that's it'?" Red asked, incredulous. "They _cut our thumbs off. _Please don't tell me I'm the only one who thought that was kinda a big deal. Pur... I figured you of all Irkens would see that as the point of no return."

Purple couldn't help grinning. "Yeah, it hurt a little." he said, knowing it was a big understatement.

"No kidding."

"And tomorrow we take off in the Massive."

Red turned his back to his fellow Tallest and floated a distance, then looked back at him, leaning against the far wall. "Well, we finally made it." he whispered. "Now we're Tallest."

XxX

Author's note: It's a one-shot, so no more, sorry. Hope you liked it. Written in about two hours due to my extreme boredom. Please review if you actually read it. :)

Also—some parts of Irken culture in this fic are debatable, I know. Please don't regard this as any sort of authority on the series Invader Zim, as I own no part of it, and haven't even watched the whole series. This is dedicated to Jhonen Vasquez, as everyone just loves to tear him apart. I realize he complained about his fans _a lot, _but any way you slice it, Zim wouldn't exist without him. Remember, fans of IZ, without him we wouldn't have a Zim to obsess over, and I see that as reason enough to be somewhat grateful to him.

Sincerely, Saitou


End file.
